Page 4 of To Pleasure a Prince
Shortly after, as a footman ushered them inside, she discovered that the place wasn’t gloomy in the least. Yes, someone had gone a bit wild with the theme. Rumor had it that the previous viscount had spent a fortune overhauling the castle some twenty-five years ago; inspired by Walpole’s Strawberry Hill, he’d turned the crumbling old building into a gothic masterpiece.
It had been finely done, however. The burnished dark woods and the ironwork gave an impression of strength. Despite the faded hues of the ancient tapestry hanging on one wall, the overall impression was of lush colors—the rich gold-shot silk of the drapes and the vibrant reds and blues of the stained-glass window at the top of the magnificent mahogany staircase.
Cicely edged closer to her. “On the inside it’s not quite what one expects.”
“No.” Regina knew Lord Draker was rich, but given his notorious reclusiveness, she’d expected sooty ceilings and cobwebs lurking beneath every chair—not this immaculately clean foyer with its sparkling crystal chandelier and a Tintoretto painting that proclaimed the owner’s wealth and taste.
But only to those who knew art. Either Lord Draker was more sophisticated than she’d realized, or he merely liked interesting pictures.
She hoped it was the latter. She had her best successes with shallow or simpleminded men; clever ones were a bother, although even they could be gotten round easily enough if she put her mind to it.
The butler approached, looking flustered. “Good morning, ladies. There must have been some mistake. Miss North is in London at present and—”
“I’m not here to see Louisa,” Regina said with a smile. “Would you kindly tell his lordship that Lady Regina Tremaine would like a word with him?”
The butler’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. “H-His lordship?”
She raised one eyebrow. “This is Castlemaine, isn’t it?”
“Certainly, my lady, but…well…you do mean that you wish to see the viscount, don’t you? Lord Draker?”
“Of course.”
“Marcus North, the sixth Viscount Draker.”
“Yes, yes, that is the one,” she said impatiently. “Have we come to the wrong house?”
“Perhaps this is a bad time,” Cicely whispered, her pallor deepening.
“Nonsense.” Regina offered the butler a cool smile. “Would you inform his lordship that I am here to see him?” She added archly, “If it’s no trouble.”
The butler colored again. “Of course not, my lady. Forgive me, but ladies rarely…that is, his lordship does not…” He trailed off weakly. “I will inform him of your arrival at once.”
“Sweet heaven, what a servant!” Regina told Cicely, as he hurried up the main staircase. “You’d think his master was a troll from the way that fellow acts.”
“They do call him the Dragon Viscount,” Cicely said.
Regina glanced up at the Tintoretto portraying St. George slaying the dragon, the Draker coat of arms with its black dragon rampant, and the mahogany newel post with a coiled dragon atop it. “I can’t imagine why,” she said dryly.
Cicely followed her gaze. “Not just because of that. Why, I heard that only last year he reduced a bookseller in the Strand to tears over some moldy old book the man had promised to him, then sold to Lord Gibbons. And he actually struck one of His Highness’s messengers last month.”
“I also heard that Lord Maxwell keeps a goat in his bedchamber, but you don’t see me sending someone to milk it. One mustn’t let idle gossip govern one’s actions.”
“There’s more than just rumor surrounding his lordship.” Cicely breathed heavily, having her usual trouble with her weak lungs. “What about his treatment of his mother? Don’t you remember the horrible claims Lady Draker made when she used to visit your parents?”
“I remember that Lady Draker had a knack for dramatic exaggeration. Besides, his lordship can hardly be as awful as she claimed and raise a sister as lovely as Louisa. Who, incidentally, says that her mother lied about her son’s supposed mistreatment.”
Cicely looked mutinous. “Miss North is probably too terrified of her brother to say anything else.”
“She doesn’t act terrified, I assure you. She seems to think he walks on water.” Indeed, the incongruity between Louisa’s and society’s respective images of Lord Draker intrigued her. Even if she hadn’t needed to pay this visit, she might have come just to determine his character. “That’s why Louisa won’t accept my brother’s attentions without his lordship’s permission. Because she respects Lord Draker’s opinion.”
“Yes, but—”
“Shh,” Regina interrupted. “Listen.”
The butler’s plaintive voice wafted down the stairs. “B-But milord, what shall I tell them?”
“Tell them I’m indisposed,” answered a deep male voice. “Tell them I’m in India. I don’t care what the hell you tell them as long as you send them away.”
